The Room at the End of the Ward
by Ellcrys
Summary: AU. Hisoka's mysterious illness causes him to be institutionalized in a hospital specializing in strange cases. Strangest of all, he discovers, is the man in the room at the end of the ward, and how much he can learn from him.
1. The Room at the End of the Ward

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters. Also not for profit. Also not particularly gay, astonishingly enough.

**Notes:** First publically-available YnM fic from me that isn't a drabble, woo! Largely because everything I've been able to think of for YnM was done years before I got into the fandom. But after writing a drabble series at the fuda100 LJ community, I was encouraged by several people to turn it into a real fic.  
AU, as will be obvious by the end of the first chapter. How and why the situation is how it is, instead of the way it was in canon, is up to you - it's not the point anyway. ;)  
New chapters, if all goes as planned, will be posted every couple of days until its completion.

* * *

**The Room at the End of the Ward**

The doctor barely looked over him before he was admitted; Hisoka could feel that he was puzzled and intrigued, but not surprised in the least. Everything checked out exactly as it had on the medical records that had been sent ahead. Hisoka might be young, only fourteen years old, but he knew what they said: everything was completely normal, except for the fact that he was apparently dying.

That was why they had come to this particular hospital, of course. It wasn't to make him better - his parents didn't care about that - it was because this government hospital specialized in medical mysteries. They'd find him interesting, and provide him with a comfortable place to live out his last days, out of his parents' sight. They'd like that.

"Misako will show you to your room, Hisoka," the doctor told him. "We're putting you on the ground floor, in the east wing. Your parents will bring your things the next time they come."

_If they come,_ Hisoka thought. _And what things?_ They'd just have kept him locked in the basement again if he recovered. There was no point in saying anything about it, though, so he just nodded and put his clothes back on to follow the nurse through the hallways. At least here, he'd probably have a bed.

Hospitals always echoed with remembered emotion, almost entirely unpleasant, but this was even worse than most. Pain and fear and confusion were nearly as stifling as a summer heat wave. Hopelessness and despair radiated from those rooms that were still occupied, as well. Perhaps the basement would have been preferable to this after all.

Misako put out a hand to steady him as he staggered. "Are you all right, Hisoka-kun? If you're feeling weak, I can bring a wheelchair..."

"No, I'm fine," Hisoka lied. "I felt a little light-headed. It happens a lot, but it passes." That was true anyway, and it didn't help him stay upright, but he was determined. If this hospital was the last place he was ever going to go, he wouldn't be pushed - he'd _walk_.

It was a relief, though, when they reached the room on his ward, and there was indeed a bed to lie down in. He couldn't remember how it had started, this inability to stand or move around much without his heartbeat quickening painfully and his breathing becoming labored. Low blood pressure, they said, but there was no explanation for it happening so suddenly, and no medication they'd tried had made any difference - in fact, they usually made it worse.

The nurse prattled on a bit about how this was his room now, and once he had his things, he could put pictures on the walls to make it feel more like home if he wanted to (because it might as well be now, Hisoka thought), and someone would be by later to get a few samples from him. Then she was gone, and Hisoka was alone with the emotions of a dozen other people, some of whom were probably dead already.

* * *

He was getting used to it after a couple of weeks, that crush of negative feelings. At first it had given him nightmares; he'd woken up sick and disoriented and thinking he had already died. Not yet.

To his surprise, they'd decided to take him off all of the medications other doctors and hospitals had decided to give him, so as to give him a fresh start and examine him without interference from external sources. Part of his current testing was less painful than most of those he'd endured - he was connected to several kinds of monitors and made to walk up and down the length of the long hallway a few times per day, so that they could record his body's reactions and compare them day to day. Perhaps it would help him to build up some strength, though initially it exhausted him.

It continued to exhaust him, unfortunately, but at least it was less dull than lying in the hospital bed, even when people brought him library books. He could feel things from within each room he passed, and sometimes when the doors were open, those inside would wave and say hello to him. There was the girl a couple years younger than him who was wasting away. There was the older man whose wife and daughter came to visit him almost every day; Hisoka didn't know what was wrong with him, but there was a feeling of imminent doom from all of them. There was the middle-aged woman who reminded him of what a mother _should_ be like, who was crippled by unexplained pain but always gave him a shaky smile when she saw him out walking.

Then there was this room at the very end of the ward. The door always remained closed, and if anyone went in or out, it was never while Hisoka was awake. That in itself wasn't so strange, but the room emanated a feeling of... nothing. Not to say that it didn't emanate anything, which would have been normal and far less puzzling - it actually emanated the distinct feeling of stark, vast emptiness.

Hisoka never asked. It wasn't his place to ask. He just remained quietly curious, until one day he received an answer.

He was out for another walk down the hallway, and making his way back, when suddenly a wave of misery hit him, so suddenly that he couldn't help but cry out as he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

Misako, who was the nurse observing him that day as usual, knelt beside him hurriedly. "Hisoka-kun! What is it?"

"I... I..." He curled his arms tightly around himself - he felt as if he was falling apart. "...Hurts..."

"Where?"

He didn't think, just raised a trembling hand to his head as it turned unconsciously to look down the hallway. _That_ was what it was - whoever was in that room was in terrible pain. More than physical pain, though there was that too now - a sudden stinging pain that made him clutch his hands together, whimpering.

Suddenly a buzzer sounded and lights flashed in the nurses' station, and Misako looked up. "Oh...! Hisoka-kun, there's an emergency - here, lean on me, we need to get out of the way..." She didn't wait for an answer before she slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him upright to get him out of the middle of the wide hallway. They made it to a doorway, then she let him sink to his knees again. "Are you feeling any better yet?"

"Uhhh...." Hisoka just moaned, and lifted his head to look up as several other nurses dashed past them down the hallway. They felt scared. ...He couldn't tell Misako, or anyone else here, that _he_ was fine - it was just whoever was in that room at the end of the ward who needed help. They seemed to know anyway, because that's where the other nurses were headed, followed by the doctor on staff. "Just... let me catch my breath..."

They huddled there in the doorway for a little longer, and another commotion at the end of the hallway made Hisoka look up once more. There was the sound of wheels rattling on the floor, rushed footsteps and a feeling of panic. A gurney was wheeled past quickly, surrounded by a few of the nurses and a doctor barking orders into a cell phone.

An arm dangled limply off the side, covered with blood and trickling drops of red as the gurney passed. Hisoka looked up to see who it was that was in that room, and froze.

A fringe of dark hair fell over brilliant purple eyes as soft as velvet. Wet velvet - the man was crying.

The eyes met his, held his gaze for a moment, then the gurney passed and they were hidden from view behind a wall of white uniform.

The double-doors that marked the end of the ward crashed open as the man was wheeled out, then swung closed again. Everything was silent, including Hisoka. Misako looked after the frantic procession for a moment, then looked down at Hisoka again, taking a deep breath. "Are you feeling better now?"

Hisoka nodded slowly. He couldn't tear himself from the trail of red drops on the white tile, or the memory of those strange purple eyes.


	2. Similarities

**Similarities**

The ward was whispering in the days after the incident with the strange patient at the end of the hallway. Whispering softly, to those few friends who each person felt they could confide in - but as always, Hisoka picked up and overheard more of it than he was meant to. 

"He was awake for only half an hour," a nurse said to another in a low voice. "He cried the whole time - it was terrible. And then he just... turned off again." 

"I heard he's been here longer than anyone else," the older man told his wife on a visit. "Longer than some of the doctors, even..." 

"He's woken up before," muttered a doctor to one of his assistants. "They said every time he wakes, he cuts his wrist - but I never thought I'd see it. The last time was before I graduated med school." 

"He never comes out or in, just lies there with his eyes open, until..." the middle-aged woman murmured to the woman in the room beside hers. "I saw him last time this happened... He hasn't even changed since then. If you ask me, I think he has a demon." 

"Dr. Takeda said there's something strange about his genetic structure," another nurse explained quietly to the other on duty. "He doesn't move, even to eat or drink, but for some reason he's stayed alive all this time. It's not natural." 

"I heard he's not human..." the frail little girl whispered fearfully to her mother. "I think he's a monster..." 

Their words stung Hisoka. He'd become accustomed to hearing such words as "demon" and "unnatural" and "monster" directed at him, and kept forgetting that this time they weren't. What would all of them think of him, he wondered, if they knew what he could do...? 

What about that strange man that their words _were_ directed at? Would he understand, enduring those insults and fears? Or would he be just like the rest, afraid and hateful to know what Hisoka could do? 

There was no way to tell, Hisoka supposed. He'd asked Misako about the man, and she'd told him that he'd been in a coma for a very long time. There was no physical cause, as far as anyone could tell - but it was as if his soul had just shut down. After that brief period of wakefulness, it had shut down again. If he ever became conscious again, even for a little while, it would probably be years. 

His soul was still there, though, or Hisoka wouldn't be able to feel him. And he did - he could tell when he woke up one morning that they had moved the man back to his room from wherever they'd taken him. That feeling of emptiness was the same as before, as if nothing had ever happened. 

Now that Hisoka could put a face to it, though, it was different. Those eyes haunted him, and not because of the strange color. They had been full of the same emptiness that he felt all around the man's room. It was a terrible feeling, like the dreams he had sometimes of falling and falling from a great height, but for some reason Hisoka felt compelled to see those eyes again. 

Late one night, when there were only two nurses on duty, and they were both busy chattering in the nurses' station, Hisoka crept from his room and made his way down the hall alone, supporting himself on the wooden trim and doorknobs of other patients' rooms. Finally, exhausted, he found himself holding onto the knob of the last door, and turned it. 

He was almost surprised that it wasn't locked, but it opened easily, allowing him to step inside. Parking lot lamps cast a dim light through windows stabilized with metal mesh, partially illuminating the man who lay motionless in the bed. 

Hisoka stepped closer, feeling uncertain now that he was actually there. What if the man _did_ have a demon, what if he _was_ a monster? If he came awake all of a sudden again, like he had before, and if he got violent, what would Hisoka do? 

Something told Hisoka, however, that it wasn't likely. The feeling of emptiness was stronger the closer he came, and the only thing that colored that vast darkness was an edge of melancholy. The man in the bed _could_ wake up if he wanted to, but... he didn't want to live. No surprise, if what the doctors said was true. 

Finally Hisoka found himself standing at the end of the bed. It was an old-fashioned bed - probably the room hadn't changed in all the time the man had been a resident there - and had a medical chart on the end. Hisoka glanced down, and found a name. So he did have one... 

Once he'd memorized it, he came to stand beside the bed, just looking. The right arm was bandaged, and rested absently across his stomach. Even the posture of his fingers looked limp, as if he was asleep, but the man's eyes were open. He was definitely not awake, either, though - they were blank and staring at nothing at all, or perhaps at the emptiness that surrounded him. In the dim light, Hisoka couldn't even make out the vivid violet color he remembered - his eyes were like black holes. 

"...Hello... Tsuzuki Asato." Even his half-whisper seemed awkwardly loud in the stillness and silence of the room. "My name is Kurosaki Hisoka..." 

There was no response, physical or emotional. Hisoka wondered why he felt disappointed about that - hadn't he been _afraid_ that he might cause some kind of response? Yet part of him seemed to have been hoping that maybe he would be able to do something the doctors couldn't. Or maybe something the doctors could have done, if they'd cared to really try. 

"I just came here two months ago," Hisoka continued. "They didn't tell me why they brought me here, but I know. I'm dying, and nobody can figure out why. It doesn't look like this place is going to have the answer either. But that's okay... my life wasn't going so well anyway." 

Still no response. Not even a flicker of an eyelash. Hisoka bit his lip. "I wondered who was in this room ever since I got here. I didn't know until I saw them wheel you past the other day..." 

His eyes were drawn to the bandaged wrist and arm, and his eyes narrowed in pity. "...Now I just wonder what hurt you so badly. You're in there, aren't you? You just don't want to come out... and when you do, this is all you want..." 

Hisoka's hand reached out to lightly touch the bandage - and suddenly, something changed. Beneath the emptiness and melancholy, there was something like... confusion? Surprise? The feeling of someone who can't make themselves believe in something, being confronted with evidence. 

Hisoka frowned, thinking. He shouldn't make skin contact - he'd learned that the hard way before... But this time, he was curious. Tsuzuki Asato was a mystery he wanted to solve... and he didn't feel dangerous. Not at all. Plus, Hisoka was already going to die - how much further harm could possibly be done? 

Very cautiously, in case whatever he found was too much to bear, he slid one finger over to touch the bare skin of the thumb. Hisoka was instantly plunged into a void so deep that it felt like a dark cave, without so much as ground beneath him to make him feel secure. Everything was cold, and there was a howling that he thought at first must be the wind, as much as it sounded like a tormented animal, because nothing could howl for so long without taking a breath... 

Hisoka gasped as he found himself suddenly sitting down hard. With the contact broken from his fall, he was no longer in sync with Tsuzuki and feeling his emotions directly, which was a good thing. He felt as if he'd been making those walks up and down the hallway all afternoon, only worse. Even so, he pulled himself upright again with the help of the bed, and stared at the man's face. 

Tears were trickling from Tsuzuki's blank, staring eyes, running down the sides of his cheeks. Furthermore, beyond the residue from their contact, Hisoka could feel pangs of loneliness so strong they were almost desperate. 

How could anyone feel that way? It felt like hunger, like starving... No wonder he'd turned himself off - a man couldn't live with feelings like that, and still care. Hisoka, for instance... no one had ever loved him either, but he didn't care about stupid things like what other people thought and felt. 

So why, then, did he carefully take the bandaged hand in his own again, careful not to touch skin? His words, too, didn't make any sense, even if they made perfect sense. 

"...I know." 

Hisoka had been right - Tsuzuki hadn't entirely turned himself off. He could still be reached, though not by most people. Maybe not but anyone but Hisoka, and so Hisoka took a deep breath, steeled himself, and took Tsuzuki's hand in his completely, wrapping his fingers around Tsuzuki's to make full contact. 

The void was still there, and terrifying - but instead of letting himself sync to Tsuzuki's emotions, he tried to force the bond the other way, letting Tsuzuki feel his. There was confusion there, and disbelief at his own idiocy in bothering to do something like this, but somehow protectiveness had bloomed through it all. 

"I'm an empath... I can feel other people's emotions, and sync with them when I touch their skin. Like I'm doing now, with you. People were always afraid of me because of it. They said I was a demon child, a monster. My parents even locked me in the basement if I said anything about it..." 

_They say the same things about me as they do you. But we're not monsters, are we?_

The lack of expression on Tsuzuki's face hadn't changed a bit when Hisoka removed his other hand from Tsuzuki's cheek - but for a few moments before that, the void of Tsuzuki's emptiness had become less cold. 


	3. Secrets

**Secrets**

They found Hisoka unconscious on the floor, or so they told him. He woke up in another wing of the hospital, hooked up to monitors that had told the doctors of unusual brain activity. Other than that, he was merely exhausted.

That made sense, if he had walked all the way to the room at the end of the ward alone. At least, that's what he let them think, though they continued to run neurological tests on him. They considered it a breakthrough.

It was nothing of the sort - it wasn't the first time that his empathy used in this manner had made him lose consciousness, and it was hardly surprising for it to happen when he was as worn out as he had been. He wasn't going to explain it to them, though, or he'd hear more of the whispers throughout the ward, and this time they'd be about him.

Rumors spread regardless in the weeks to come, but they weren't derogatory ones.

He was allowed to go back and see Tsuzuki whenever he took his walks, much to his surprise. Not for any good reason, though - they thought of it as cute in a tragic, hopeless sort of way. So the boy thought he could make some kind of difference to the catatonic vegetable. Humor the boy - he's not doing any harm, and he's dying.

They had no idea, however, that Tsuzuki was in fact responding to Hisoka.

Nothing happened when the doctors were there. There was a glittering recognition somewhere deep within the emptiness, which never made it beyond the confines of the man's mind, but that was all. It was only after they left, and Hisoka crept closer to touch his hand, that Tsuzuki showed outward signs of improvement.

Hisoka didn't have to speak in words, but he did anyway. Sometimes he told Tsuzuki stories from books that he'd read. Sometimes he'd tell Tsuzuki the things that he didn't dare to tell anyone else. The first time Tsuzuki responded with a vague, distant smile instead of merely emotional activity, Hisoka was shocked.

Tsuzuki's eyes remained as empty as ever, the aura of desolation and depression continued to swallow him like shadows falling, but he smiled faintly at the sound of Hisoka's voice. Maybe he heard and understood what Hisoka was saying, maybe he didn't, maybe it was merely the emotional connection caused by Hisoka's empathy - but there was something building between the two of them nonetheless. Tsuzuki would keep the secrets Hisoka dared to tell him, and Hisoka kept Tsuzuki's secrets - all the things he'd felt in Tsuzuki's emotions. The smiles were their own special secret.

Perhaps his taking an interest had renewed the hospital staff's interest, however - there were times now that he entered Tsuzuki's room to find someone there, examining him. One such time, he was rather sure that he'd never seen the doctor before.

The man's face appeared stern, but there was a sadness and regret radiating from him as he looked down at the body of the man in the bed. It changed to surprise, as he sensed Hisoka's presence, and he turned around, peering at him with blue eyes that were not muted by his glasses. "And you are...?"

The doctors on this wing knew every patient, since there were few short stays, and Hisoka knew all the doctors. This was strange. "Kurosaki Hisoka. Who are you?"

The man smiled a tight smile at the protective tone in Hisoka's voice. "Tatsumi Seiichirou. I apologize if I startled you - I've come from another institution to examine Tsuzuki-san. His case has interested us for many years." The man hesitated for a moment. "Has he awakened for you?"

"No." It was half-true.

"Hmm..." Tatsumi said nothing more, just regarded Hisoka thoughtfully.

Hisoka was suspicious; why would a doctor from some other hospital know more about what happened between them than a doctor from their own hospital? "What?" he asked, growing defensive.

"How much do you know about Tsuzuki-san?" Tatsumi asked. "Do you know how long he's been here?"

Hisoka shook his head, glancing over to the bed. He didn't care how long Tsuzuki had been like this...

His eyes widened slightly when he realized that Tsuzuki didn't feel completely empty, like he usually did when they weren't alone. He already could sense recognition. ...Of Tatsumi-san?

"Sad as it may be," Tatsumi stated, "death is a natural part of life. Sometimes people cling to this world, but nearly always it brings them nothing but pain. It would be more merciful to let go."

Hisoka's eyes narrowed suddenly. How dare this man say things like that? He didn't know anything about Tsuzuki either!

"But on the other hand," Tatsumi continued, glancing back down at the bed, "if such a person finds a reason to live, it would become more unnatural for them to die. If you'll excuse me..."

Hisoka stepped aside as Tatsumi brushed past him to the door - and was it his imagination, or when the man reached up to nudge his glasses up the bridge of his nose, was he hiding a small smile? "Good luck, Kurosaki-kun."

"...Thanks..." Hisoka murmured, puzzled, as he watched the strange doctor go. Well... whatever. He'd come to see Tsuzuki, not talk to some weird doctor. He had enough of that as it was.

"Tsuzuki...?" Funny, Hisoka almost felt jealous of the doctor - he had thought that he was the only person that Tsuzuki seemed to recognize.

But if Tsuzuki was making progress, maybe someday he would wake up again. Maybe they would be able to talk in words, and then Tsuzuki would recognize lots of people. That would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Hisoka wondered, as he took Tsuzuki's hand and saw that faint, familiar little smile part his lips at the recognition of his empathic link, if losing the secrecy of this friendship they shared would ruin it.

Then again... Hisoka was going to die before long anyway, wasn't he? It would have been selfish to expect Tsuzuki to pine after only his friendship forever, when it couldn't last.

Even while he held out hope for Tsuzuki's recovery, Hisoka's was not progressing at all. Things hadn't gotten much worse, though he was tired more and more frequently and after less effort, and his body often ached; his condition definitely wasn't improving, and the doctors still had no idea what was wrong.

That was all right... Hisoka really hadn't wanted to live anyway. It was only that he had this strange urge to reach out to bring Tsuzuki back before he died. Just so he could have done one good thing.

That was what he told himself, anyway. It didn't explain his dismay when one day he pulled himself up to Tsuzuki's bedside, reached for his hand, and got no response whatsoever.

No smile, no flicker of recognition - no change at all in Tsuzuki's emotional emptiness. The only thing that colored it was a pain and fear which Hisoka thought might even be worse than when he had first encountered Tsuzuki. That didn't make any sense - Tsuzuki had been staying, as always, in this same room that he'd apparently been in for years. Doctors even checked on him more frequently. What could possibly have happened in this situation that would cause him to not only completely regress, but end up worse?

Maybe it was just Hisoka's imagination. Maybe he didn't remember Tsuzuki's pain as sharp as it really had been when they'd met. It had been months, almost a year, since they'd first crossed paths. Maybe Tsuzuki had just regressed, and that was all. Still, he couldn't understand why it would have happened, and why his efforts now seemed to make no difference.

Not until one day, when he felt strong enough to walk to the end of the hallway without assistance for another visit. He opened the door, and stared.

The sheets and blankets on the bed had been pushed down, the yukata Tsuzuki wore had been cast aside. Tsuzuki himself was on his stomach, and one of the doctors was atop him, white pants loose around his thighs as he turned with a start to the boy standing in the doorway.

At first, Hisoka was confused as to what was going on. As it started to dawn on him, and he was convinced that yes - this really was what it looked like - he was terrified.

Pale eyes bore into him as he stood frozen in the doorway, and Hisoka sensed chaos and darkness - a much more violent chaos and darkness than Tsuzuki's emotions. "Ah - you again, boy. I hadn't expected to find you here as well..."

...Again? Hisoka wanted to ask, but he couldn't find his voice. He knew this man with the silver hair was a newer doctor who had only recently transferred to the hospital, because he'd seen him in the ward in recent weeks, but they'd taken no real notice of each other...

"Oh, don't worry - I know you don't remember."

...In recent weeks. Hisoka couldn't remember exactly when he had first seen this man on the ward, but it seemed like it had been at about the time that he'd come to find Tsuzuki had regressed.

The doctor's expression was tense and manic, caught in a moment of sadistic pleasure - but below him, Tsuzuki's face held no expression at all. His eyes were blank, staring down at the bedsheets his head rested upon.

Somehow, the contrast between the two infuriated Hisoka to the point where he couldn't think. He didn't _care_ if the doctor thought they had met before. He didn't _care_ that the doctor was probably twice his age, with lawyers and important friends. He didn't _care_ that the safest and wisest option was to call for help. What he cared about was punishing the bastard for doing this to Tsuzuki, who couldn't even defend himself.

Hisoka clenched a fist, raising it as he forgot his body's weakness and started to lunge forward. The doctor caught the feeble punch he threw easily, and twisted Hisoka's arm to push him down on the bed next to Tsuzuki, who still lay there limp and helpless.

Over his shoulder, Hisoka saw the doctor bend over him, smiling a sinister smile. "I see the curse is working as intended, or you'd never have been so foolish. In fact, I believe you'd have been paralyzed with terror if you'd remembered me. Another successful experiment... and one that I am not quite ready to abandon just yet."

His right eye, Hisoka saw, was not normal - it was like some kind of reptile's eye behind the sweep of silver hair, and suddenly he _was_ paralyzed with terror as that eye moved closer...

* * *

The next day, Tsuzuki slit his wrist again, for some reason Hisoka didn't understand. It happened while Hisoka was asleep, and he woke to the buzz of fear and worry across the ward. He might have panicked, if one of the newer doctors, Dr. Muraki, hadn't assured him that Tsuzuki was already in stable condition. Tsuzuki-san would make a full recovery, he was sure, and soon he would return to his usual room. Hisoka could visit his friend again then, if he liked.

Seeing as it was the first time Hisoka had ever spoken to the silver-haired doctor, he was a little surprised at Dr. Muraki's kind words.


	4. Never Enough

**Never Enough**

"Why do you do this, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka whispered to him, his fingers touching the scars gingerly. "I mean... I don't really _mind_ if I die, but..." 

Tsuzuki gave no response, in any fashion, and Hisoka sat back with a frustrated sigh. 

It was a good thing Hisoka didn't mind if he died, because that was what was coming. No one said as much, but he knew. For the last several months, since Tsuzuki's relapse, he'd been growing weaker. He couldn't manage to keep much food down, he hurt everywhere. It was all he could do to stand, and he certainly couldn't walk on his own. And then there were the blackouts and lapses in his memory that became more and more frequent... 

Maybe that weird blue-eyed doctor he'd seen that one day had been right. Maybe without a reason to go on living, maybe it was just more natural to die. Now that Tsuzuki had reverted to his previous state, and wasn't responding to anything, perhaps Hisoka had given up on himself without even realizing it. 

He hadn't quite given up on Tsuzuki, though. He visited every day that he could manage to sit up in a wheelchair, and talked to him just as he'd done before, if more urgently. At least the doctors and nurses were willing to indulge him in this. 

Sometimes they stayed with him as he sat with Tsuzuki, and Hisoka silently wished that something would happen elsewhere on the ward so they would leave the two of them alone. Maybe that was why Tsuzuki wouldn't respond anymore, he told himself. And he wasn't going to talk about the things he thought and felt when there were doctors and nurses in the room. 

There was one doctor who seemed to understand - Dr. Muraki. He retreated after he'd pushed Hisoka's wheelchair to the side of Tsuzuki's bed, and told him with a smile to take as much time as he liked. 

Hisoka... wanted to like him. He should like Dr. Muraki, he thought. It was just that despite the seemingly understanding, friendly surface appearance, it felt as if there was a sinister, gloating chuckle behind every smile. He found himself almost wishing for one of the doctors who would stay in the room with him, rather than Muraki's apparent indulgence of his wishes, just because the man was somehow so unnerving. 

"I wish you could tell me what happened to you to make you like this," Hisoka whispered to Tsuzuki, then paused. "Well... I guess I wouldn't make you tell me if you didn't want to. It must have hurt a lot for you to wind up like this. But you know about all the things that hurt me... And, uhm... I really feel stupid saying something like this," Hisoka muttered sheepishly, "but telling you made me feel better. I mean... it still hurts. But you heard it all, you heard everything - I know you heard me, somewhere deep down - and you're still here. ...Of course, it's not like you could leave... But still, you still smiled at me after that. After knowing what I am and what I could do." His voice dropped again. "It... was nice." 

Still no response. Hisoka bit his lip and turned to another subject, trying to talk normally, as he had when Tsuzuki was still responding. "...My father came to visit the other day. That's how I know I really am dying - he hadn't visited me before in all this time." Hisoka laughed a scoffing, unamused laugh. "He said he was sorry. I felt like he even meant it... so why did he treat me like that in the first place, if he didn't want to? And he didn't stay long... it was like he couldn't wait to get away from me again. And my mother, she didn't come... But she was the one who told me I wasn't her child, so I don't care. I hope she doesn't come." 

The words were said forcefully, stubbornly. Too stubbornly. Hisoka frowned; easy as it was to read other people's dishonesty, it was somehow more difficult to recognize in himself. "...Okay... so part of me hoped she would. But it's not like I expected her to... I didn't expect my father, either." 

Hisoka sighed, and lowered his voice further. "Honestly... I guess I _am_ afraid of dying. I mean, nobody knows what happens when we die. And I keep telling myself that whatever happens, it can't be worse than this life... but it's still scary." His voice broke, which made him angry at himself. "Do you know...?" he asked Tsuzuki. "Or was life really so horrible for you that you'd take your chances? I wish someone knew, so they could tell me..." 

He thought about it for a moment, then loosened his grip on Tsuzuki's hand, which had apparently tightened without his knowing it. "No, on second thought, maybe I don't. I mean, I can't do anything about dying. No one can. We're all going to die someday, whether we like it or not, and knowing what comes after we die won't prevent it from happening, if we decide we don't like it." 

That was a particularly frightening thought, but Hisoka didn't think it was responsible for the wave of dizziness he felt all of a sudden. He let go of Tsuzuki's hand momentarily to press a hand against his forearm; sometimes it felt as though there was something inside him, snakes writhing underneath his skin. He could tell the doctors exactly where he felt them, and even trace the lines, but the lines didn't correspond to any nerves or veins, and they could never detect anything unusual. 

"...I don't have a choice," he murmured, feeling feverish as he reached for Tsuzuki's hand again. "You do... You don't have to die just yet. So... live, okay?" He smirked faintly, in a rebellious moment. "It would really throw everyone off. And maybe..." His tone grew more serious. "Well, I don't want to die completely alone. You're my... uhm, my only friend. I guess. I haven't had a friend for a long time..." 

All of a sudden, something changed, and Hisoka's aching head snapped up instinctively. He stared at their hands in shock - Tsuzuki's fingers had partially closed around his. 

"...Tsuzuki..." The man's expression was still empty, but there was an undercurrent of gratitude running through the emotions Hisoka sensed. "You can hear me, can't you...? Are you... are you going to wake up for me?" What if he did? ...What if he tried to slash his wrist again? "P-please... if you come out of this... don't hurt yourself. Okay? I don't want you to hurt yourself..." 

And he was babbling, his vision going dim. Hisoka put the hand that wasn't holding Tsuzuki's to his head. "...And I can't do anything to stop you... I don't feel so good..." 

That distant, sparkling gratitude was cut off suddenly, vanishing at the sound of the door opening behind Hisoka. This wasn't unexpected - the doctors had hooked Hisoka up to monitors recently, to alert them instantly of any changes in his condition. Usually the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was someone rushing into his room and asking how he felt, maybe strapping an oxygen mask or blood pressure cuff to him. 

This time, it was Dr. Muraki, and the man did not ask how he felt. "I know you haven't had all the time you needed," he said with a pleasant smile, "but I believe it's time for you to go now." 

"But..." Hisoka tried to protest weakly, still clinging to Tsuzuki's hand as he slumped forward in the wheelchair. "But I... he..." It was growing difficult to figure out how to put words together, and his tongue felt stiff and awkward. 

"I will take care of Tsuzuki-san," Dr. Muraki told him firmly, reaching for their clasped hands to separate them. "Indeed, I'll take very good care of him. Even if his mind is gone, don't you think he left a perfect body behind?" 

Something unpleasant sparked in Hisoka's memory, or the lack thereof - and it exploded when the doctor's hand encircled his wrist. Blood and moonlight and the smell of fallen petals and pain and fear and more pain; and Muraki's emotions, twisted and writhing madness like the snakes Hisoka felt beneath his skin, crawling in the same patterns, silver and red serpents with cold crystal-blue eyes... 

Even if he hadn't been only half-conscious, he could not have withstood the chaos and terror to stay awake. "Tsu..." he gasped faintly, then everything went dark as Muraki pulled them apart. 

There was a dim but dreadful noise as consciousness returned - people talking all around his bed. They felt desperate. That went away after only a moment; then there was a moment where he felt a tube inserted in his throat as he panted for breath. That too passed. Hisoka didn't care. 

The next thing he saw clearly was a bright light. 


	5. First Assignment

**First Assignment**

Hisoka wasn't sure what he'd expected death to be like, but this certainly wasn't it.

Oh, it had started off normally enough, if you could apply the word "normal" to one's vague, derivative expectations of what an afterlife should look like. There had been the bright light people talked about seeing, and then there was that ornate room that looked like it must have been inside of a palace... but it was a waiting room, apparently. And then there was a rather normal-looking older guy in a suit who explained things to him, instead of some hazy spirit or angel of light. Just a guy in a suit. A slightly wrinkled suit, in fact, and the guy seemed tired.

And when he asked if he could please go back to check on someone before his appointment for judgment, the man paused before telling him that there were conditions for that sort of thing, and it couldn't go unregulated. Well, Hisoka had sort of expected that, but not the vague legalese with which the man spoke about it.

Now, a couple of days later, after he'd been practically interrogated by various people, had a lot of things explained to him, and was made to fully read and sign a lot of forms (signing forms, in the afterlife? Hisoka thought this was ridiculous), the man was showing him around the place where he'd apparently be working for the foreseeable future, and it just looked like a normal office. Desks, chairs, copy machine, coffeepot, and even some motivational posters. The only strange things about it were that there was a schoolgirl roughly his own age who seemed to be working there, and there was an owl flying around the room for awhile before a long-haired blond guy caught it and left, scolding it all the way - though he spared a wave and a smile for Hisoka on the way out. The man in the suit, who had given his name as Konoe, pressed a hand against his head at this outburst as if he had a headache.

"Is this the new employee, kachou?"

Hisoka looked up and barely refrained from doing a double-take at the man who had just entered the office. At first it was just that he looked very familiar... then he noticed the blue eyes. His own eyes widened. Wasn't this...?

"Yes, he is," Konoe confirmed. "Kurosaki, this is Tatsumi Seiichirou. He's my secretary. Tatsumi, this is Kurosaki Hisoka."

"Yes. A pleasure." Tatsumi nodded politely, then continued on his way through the office to another room, showing no indication that he remembered having met before - aside from a strange feeling when he heard Hisoka's name.

Unlike the other employees Hisoka had met so far, Tatsumi didn't have an undercurrent of distant longing beneath general cheer - he felt melancholy through and through, no matter how stoic he seemed outwardly. "He was..." Hisoka began, then changed his mind. "...Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Konoe assured him, turning back to Hisoka. "Tatsumi's always a bit short with people; don't take it personally. Anyhow, over here is your desk -" he thumped a hand on an ordinary-looking, worn metal desk with fake wooden trim, one that could have been found in any low-budget office on earth - "and your locker is over there. You're welcome to the coffee over there, and - ahh, it looks like Kannuki brought cookies. She's an excellent cook, I recommend trying them. Later tonight, I'll show you where the employee apartments are. ...Or, if this gang of idiots continues to need me present to keep them in line, I'll have someone else show you."

Hisoka was pretty sure that something _was_ bothering Tatsumi, because he hadn't felt like that when they met in Tsuzuki's hospital room, but he nodded quickly. This wasn't at all what he'd expected a job in the afterlife to be like, and it was kind of giving him a headache too, but at least it wasn't gloomy in this place. Even if the people working here all had an undercurrent of darkness underneath, aside from Tatsumi their surface emotions were pretty cheerful, and there were no dark, cold rooms like he would have expected in the world of death. Thank goodness - that would have brought back memories of his life, being locked in the basement. But then, the trees outside with their ever-present sakura blossoms seemed to bring back memories of something too, and something ominous at that, but Hisoka couldn't quite figure it out. It all seemed awfully pleasant on the surface...

But he didn't care if it was pleasant or not, because he really had only one reason to be there. "And when will someone teach me how to go back to the world of the living?"

"Don't be so impatient," Konoe chided him. "As I told you before, having a strong tie to the living is a prerequisite for being a shinigami. Everyone here has someone or something they wanted to check up on. You'll learn in time that the job has to come first - that's why shinigami always work in pairs, so that the partners can ensure that whatever binds each other to the living won't get in the way of work."

Hisoka nodded thoughtfully and said no more. He remained secretly impatient - Tsuzuki needed to know that he would still be there for him, even after death - but maybe it would be better to just get through all this administrative nonsense quickly so that he'd have free time sooner. "When do I meet my partner? Is it... one of the people I already met here?" Tatsumi had gone into a private office, the blond guy with the owl was who-knows-where, and remaining were the schoolgirl and a grouchy-looking guy. With dark hair and... pointed ears. All right, so maybe this place was a little strange after all.

Konoe shook his head. "We're understaffed at the moment - we have no one to assign to you as a permanent partner. One of the others can work with you if an assignment comes up, or we can send the Gushoushin along."

...Gushoushin? Well, that wasn't the first question on Hisoka's mind. "I thought you said you already had a case for me? A real easy one, you said."

"Actually..." Konoe rubbed his forehead again. "It turns out that particular assignment was cancelled."

"Cancelled?"

"It happens sometimes; our intervention becomes unnecessary."

* * *

Back in the world of the living, the room at the end of the ward was considerably less empty than it had been a short time ago. In his state, Tsuzuki couldn't have known about Hisoka's death, and how it had dragged on for weeks. All he could possibly have known was that Hisoka wasn't visiting him anymore.

For a while, the room had been swarming with doctors, nurses, hired muscle to restrain an out-of-control patient. Then it had been completely empty.

Now, the room was filled with people from the hospital's janitorial staff, who were trying to scrub the bloodstains from the floor and walls. The bed had been moved out, as it was unable to be reused - crimson had soaked it through.


	6. One Light in the Dark

**One Light in the Dark**

He was furious as he burst into Tatsumi's office. "You killed him, didn't you?"

Tatsumi had started to rise at the sound of the door banging open, but he paused and stared at Hisoka. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That day I saw you in the hospital," Hisoka accused him. "Now that I know you're a shinigami, what else would you have been there for? You were assigned to kill him!"

Tatsumi straightened after a moment, pushing up his glasses in a gesture that seemed to return his composure. "If I had been assigned to kill Tsuzuki-san that day, Kurosaki-kun, he would have died."

"So who killed him, then?" Hisoka demanded angrily. Anger was safer than other things he might feel if he let himself.

All that time he'd spent talking to these people, filling out stupid paperwork, waiting to learn how to go back - and when he finally got the chance, all he found was a room, empty aside from painful emotional residue. A quick walk around the ward had confirmed that his suspicions were correct.

"..._He_ killed himself," Tatsumi said emphatically. "Knowing what you did of him, why would you think otherwise?"

Because Hisoka didn't want to believe it. He had asked Tsuzuki to live; as far as he could tell, it had been more or less his dying wish. And Tsuzuki was his friend - it would have been less painful if someone had killed him despite his best efforts, instead of going against Hisoka's wishes like that.

Hisoka was so distraught by the realization that Tatsumi's sadness barely registered, except that he hadn't expected it. "Kurosaki-kun, his time had passed long ago. His case had been passed from shinigami to shinigami for years - it would be a simple matter for a new shinigami to begin with, taking the life of a comatose man when that flame finally flickered out. But Tsuzuki-san was... no ordinary man. His flame continued to burn, even when there was nothing left." The tone of Tatsumi's voice, and the subtle shadings of emotions, made Hisoka look up; he got the strong impression that this "flame" was not the only thing that had made Tsuzuki extraordinary to Tatsumi.

In a way, it made Hisoka relax to realize that Tatsumi apparently understood. "...Then why is he dead now?"

"I can only assume," Tatsumi began, "that he finally died because he wanted to die more than he ever had before. Whatever inner power kept him alive all this time was turned upon himself, perhaps."

Echoes of the old rumors flooded Hisoka's troubled imagination. Words like _monster, demon, inhuman_...

Hisoka didn't care a bit, and he looked up at Tatsumi defiantly, putting two and two together. "Tsuzuki was the assignment that Konoe-kachou suggested, that he said was cancelled, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Tatsumi confirmed. "...I hadn't told him the name of the boy I'd spoken to at the hospital, so he didn't know you were connected to Tsuzuki-san. For that, I apologize."

Hisoka shook his head - that wasn't it at all. Something else had just occurred to Hisoka as well. "People who commit suicide are sent to hell, aren't they? That's what kachou said in training."

"Yes, or they're simply not permitted to reincarnate - and that is the way things are," Tatsumi stated firmly.

"It wasn't his fault!" Hisoka exclaimed, furious. "If you'd seen inside his mind - if you saw how much pain he was in, you'd understand why he did it!" The words had only just left his lips when he realized he'd forgiven Tsuzuki.

Fortunately, he still had plenty to be angry about; Tatsumi refused to budge in his stance. "I'm sure they'll take everything into consideration. You did an admirable job trying to prevent that fate for Tsuzuki-san, but the matter is beyond your control now."

"We'll see about that." Tatsumi's words had nearly confirmed what Hisoka had been wondering about. "He hasn't been brought to judgment yet, has he?"

"It usually takes longer than that, with a case like..." Tatsumi realized what Hisoka was getting at mid-sentence, and stopped dead. "Kurosaki-kun, your job is only to bring souls for judgment. That is all."

"This has nothing to do with the job."

Tatsumi nearly gaped after him as Hisoka turned to leave the office. "Kurosaki-kun! You can't interfere with the process once your task is completed!"

"Yeah? Watch me." The door nearly slammed behind him.

* * *

Enma was not pleased. The man before him was on his knees, crying and pleading - but for once, he wasn't pleading for mercy. Rather, just the opposite.

"I don't want to stay here and work for you, I don't want a new body!" The words spilled out from him like a flood. "I'm sure, absolutely sure!"

"...You do realize that my judgment can be... harsh." Enma's tone was threatening.

"I deserve it, I deserve the worst," the man confessed. "I couldn't help... I couldn't help anyone, all I could do was hurt people, people got hurt because I exist, I don't want to exist anymore..."

Enma sighed as the man broke down sobbing again. He'd had his eye on this one for quite some time, waiting... His case was messier than the vast majority of people to be judged - a prime candidate for staying on. And that, of course, was all as Enma would have it; Tsuzuki Asato was so captivating that he'd intended to keep him ever since the man had come to his attention. Tsuzuki had therefore been offered every deal that could be offered to a dead man's soul.

Yet he'd turned each one of them down, truly believing he was unable to be redeemed. Free will among mortals was often a nuisance.

"So what you crave is oblivion...?"

Tsuzuki nodded, wiping the sleeve of the hospital's yukata across his eyes and visibly relaxing at the hope that his wish might be granted. "Yeah... yes," he murmured, exhausted. "I've lived for too long... seen too much... done too much. I'm tired... there's no one left who cares what happens to me - the last one is gone now..."

"Tsuzuki! You idiot!"

Tsuzuki cringed as he and Enma alike both looked up in surprise at the outburst, and the sound of the door at the other end of the room banging open. Enma's eyes narrowed in indignance; Tsuzuki's widened in disbelief. "Hi... Hisoka...?"

It nearly broke Hisoka, hearing his name from Tsuzuki for the first time. Hearing Tsuzuki's _voice_ for the first time - clearly, not even hoarse from years of not speaking. It was almost enough to make him forget his anger as he stalked across the room to where Tsuzuki knelt. Almost, but not quite.

"You have no idea, do you? I asked you to live, Tsuzuki - and despite all the misery and abuse and everything else, I stayed here instead of moving on so I could make sure you _did_ live!"

He was standing over Tsuzuki now, trying to glare down at him, but seeing those familiar violet eyes looking up at him - really _looking_ at him and _seeing_ him, dark and wet like that first time he'd caught a glimpse of them as Tsuzuki was rushed past - was ruining all his efforts to keep his stare cold and his anger hot.

"And then you had to go and... and do _that_... and now you're even trying to get out of..." Hisoka's angry shout trailed off into a sob as he fell into Tsuzuki's arms.

It was nearly overwhelming, having Tsuzuki holding him in a physical sense - being surrounded by not just his painful emotions, but his arms too, much stronger and firmer than he'd have expected them to be after a lengthy period of being bedridden. Or maybe he just didn't remember what it was like to be held at all.

Despite his shock and his guilt over the accusations, Tsuzuki felt glad to be holding him, and now Hisoka could feel the warmth and conscious gratitude that he'd before felt only dimly. He could feel reaction, too, to his own relief and anxiety and determination as they flowed the opposite way through their empathic bond. Tsuzuki could tell that Hisoka was serious, even though he couldn't understand why.

"Why... why are you doing this...?" he asked brokenly. "...You... don't even know me."

"I know you better than anyone else," Hisoka muttered, in what would have been a fierce growl if his throat wasn't too tight to allow it. "Even if we've never spoken in words before, I felt all the things you kept hidden inside - I know _you_."

Tsuzuki paused for a long time, deliberating, and when he spoke again, his words weren't to Hisoka. "...Am I still allowed to stay?"

Smugness broke through Enma's annoyance with the ridiculous mortals. "If you agree to the conditions I informed you of earlier... then yes."

Tsuzuki nodded very slightly, and this time spoke to Hisoka. "I'll stay," he murmured into Hisoka's shoulder, holding him tighter.

---

---

...And that is that! Yes, I know it's short - but hey, it was based on a drabble series. For the record, according to the word processor I used, each chapter has an exact multiple of 100 words.  
Thanks much for all the kind reviews - I _may_ write more in this alternate universe, but who knows? The little tiny story I felt compelled to tell ended here, and I've got other weird ideas for this new fandom of mine...


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